Disengage
by Nuwanda Quillow
Summary: Harry Potter wants to forget the events from fourth year. Draco Malfoy wants nothing more than to beat his father at something. Both must embark on a quest that neither asked for. This time the rulebook has been thrown out the window and all bets are off.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Disengage

Authors: NUWANDA (in her 1st Harry angst) AND QUILLOW (in her triumphant return to Harry!Angst) (Nuwanda would like to remark that, "Dear God, you're (Quillow) rubbing off on me!")

Summary: Fencing, angst, portkeys, thoughts of Cedric, angst, a new and mysterious DADA teacher, a rather surprising Draco, angst. Did we mention angst? Well, it has angst.

Disclaimer: We do not own Harry Potter because if we did we'd be filthy rich and not wasting our time writing fanfic.  In fact, I think we'd both be living in a gothic chateau with count Von Groovy by our side.  And perhaps we'd both go to French and live on top of the Empire state building… so whatever.

Author's note to follow

September 3rd , The Start of Term 5 (PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO THE TIME LINE… IT JUMPS A LITTLE BIT)

"Catch, Potter!" Draco called, tossing a fencing foil towards Harry.  Harry swung around, and saw the thin sword flying at his head.  He reached out, grabbed a hold of it, and promptly vanished.

            The room full of people fell deathly silent.  There was a loud clatter towards the center of the room. Draco had dropped his foil. He stood there, mouth agape, staring at the spot where Harry Potter had been only moments before.  And then, all Hell broke loose.

***

August 21st Before the Start of Term 5 

            "En garde, boy!" Lucius Malfoy spat.  Raising his foil, Draco immediately got into defense position.  Lucius ran at Draco, advancing swiftly.  Rather than retreating or staying where he was (as regular fencing rules would require) Draco responded by rushing his father.  A clash of heated metal resounded through the sprawling ebony marble chamber.  The blades of their foils crossed, Lucius and Draco stood less than a foot apart, staring each other down, waiting for someone to make the first move.  Lucius acted first, disengaging, bringing his foil down and pushing Draco's blade out of the way before immediately attacking again, thrusting the blade forwards.  Draco felt the tip of the blade connect with his chest…hard.  He retreated immediately, regaining proper fencing distance and silently fumed at himself for allowing his father to gain the upper hand.  

            "You're still too easy, boy," Lucius taunted, knowing full well how to get under his son's skin.  Draco glared and turned his back on Lucius, who stared at his son in confusion.  Draco smirked inwardly.  'The element of surprise…' Turning suddenly, Draco rushed at Lucius, who stared in surprise as his son drove his foil forward with angry determination, successfully touching off a hit.  Lucius stood momentarily stunned before smiling slightly in admiration of Draco's cleverness.  "That was pretty good, boy."

            Draco simply stared at his father, his face betraying no emotion.  Lucius sneered at his son.

            "Well, well, well…a tie.  I think I can remedy **_that_**."  The room was silent except for the sound of their footsteps as Lucius began to circle his son.  Draco raised his foil warily, prepared to fight off his father's attack.  Lucius advanced upon his son. Draco tried desperately to parry his father's attacks, but was finally unsuccessful.

            Draco stalked off to the corner, angrily stripping off his fencing jacket.  Lucius stared at his son's retreating back, smiling.  He walked over to join Draco, who was still pouting, and glared at the house elf, who immediately began pouring them water in fright.  Lucius handed a goblet of water to Draco.  "Not bad, boy." Draco accepted the glass of water.  "Did you know, there is going to be a fencing team at Hogwarts next year? Snape is going to be running it." Lucius said slowly and deliberately.  Draco looked up at his father with interest.  "Perhaps, you can finally beat Potter at something." Draco turned away.  "Here, maybe this will help." Lucius took out another fencing foil, and handed it to Draco.  "Give this to Potter, and I guarantee you will win." Draco glowered at his father, took the foil, and heatedly left.

            Lucius watched Draco, smiling evilly, "Yes, you _will _win… once and for all."

***

September 1st

            Harry Potter had mixed feelings when he returned to Hogwarts after summer holiday.  He was happy that he finally escaped the Dursley's care.  The Dursley's were still mad about the ton tongue toffee incident, and absolutely refused to let Harry leave the house anytime over the summer.  It didn't matter anyways; halfway through summer break Ron wrote to him and told him that Dumbledore was not letting Harry visit the Weasley's over the summer because it wasn't safe.  With his books and broom locked in the closet under the stairs and no refuge from his family in sight, it had been the summer from Hell.  Yet also, it was painful returning to Hogwarts.  The atmosphere was different now.  'Cedric…'  

            "Harry?" 

            Harry turned from where he had been staring out the window of the train.  Ron and Hermione were looking worriedly at him.

            "You all right?" Ron asked anxiously.  Harry nodded wordlessly and turned back to the window.  Hermione looked at Ron and shrugged.  

            The train pulled into Hogsmeade and the students proceeded to the horseless carriages.  Harry walked as if he was in a dream, Hermione and Ron following closely behind him, whispering urgently to one another.  

            "What's gotten into him?" Ron asked, frustrated.  

            "I don't know," Hermione whispered, "but I think we should maybe write to Snuffles…don't you think?"

            "All right…" The two of them climbed into the carriage behind Harry, who was looking out the window…again.

            Suddenly, the door opened, and someone stuck his head in.

            "This all taken?"  It was Draco Malfoy.  Ron glared and Hermione put a restraining hand on his arm.  Harry simply glanced at Draco, then turned his gaze back to the window.  Draco grinned, and looked around the carriage.  "No, then?  Jolly good!"  He climbed in, seating himself directly across from Harry.  "I haven't talked to Potter in a while!"  Draco continued to grin at Harry, who continued to ignore the blond boy.  Ron was seething with anger.

            "What do you want, Draco?!" he demanded.  Draco slowly turned his gaze on Ron.

            "I just wanted," he drawled innocently, "to see how our resident murderer is doing-"

            Whatever Draco was going to say next, he never did.  Ron dove at Draco and grabbed him by the collar.

            "You stupid bastard!" Ron roared.  

            "Ron!" Hermione grabbed the back of Ron's robes in attempt to pull him off of Draco, but failed.  Livid beyond reason, Ron refused to relinquish his hold on Draco, only succeeding in tripping out of the carriage and dragging Draco down with him.

            "You slimy, Death Eater, shit-for-brains, ferret-faced…" Ron grappled for insults to throw at Malfoy, who was still grinning at him, despite the fact that his nose was bleeding in a most undignified manner and a shiner was already forming around one eye. 

            "Ron!  Stop it this instant!  You're going to get in trouble before school even starts!" Hermione yelled from the carriage door.  Harry stood next to her, glancing out the door at the fracas outside.

            "You boys!  Stop that!"  A tall man with light brown hair and warm brown eyes strode over. He was wearing maroon robes that were obviously new.  Ron took no notice as he came over, if anything only glancing quickly over his shoulder before punching Draco again.  He grabbed the back of Ron's robes, pulling him off of Draco.  "Stop, I said!"

            Draco gently touched one finger to the corner of his mouth, checking to see if it was bleeding or not.  It was.  He reached into his robes and pulled out a handkerchief of the finest silk, and wiped the blood from his face.  After tucking the now bloody handkerchief out of sight, he eyed the man with the same lack of respect he showed to most people.  "Who are you?"

            "I'm Professor Goddard, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher…who are you?!"

            "A slimy git," Ron mumbled.  Professor Goddard obviously stifled a smile and tried to look reproachfully at Ron before looking back to Draco.

            "Draco Malfoy," Draco responded boredly, as if this was all a waste of his time.  

            "Well, Mr. Malfoy," Goddard said, "That will be five points from Slytherin."

            Ron snickered.

            "-And as for you, Mr. Weasley," Goddard continued, glancing at Ron, "five points from Gryffindor.  If I see any more of this fighting from you two, you'll be facing detention…"

            "Detention?" Ron interrupted indignantly.  Goddard looked once again as if he was suppressing a smile.

            "…For a week.  That is all.  Now, get back in your carriage.  I suggest separate carriages this time, hmmm?"  Turning to go, Goddard caught sight of Harry in the door of the carriage and froze.  Harry looked small, and underweight.  His green eyes were a stark contrast to his pale skin.  Goddard felt the urge to reach out to him, but he held back. "All right there, Harry?" He asked.  

            Harry was startled out of his deep thoughts, when Goddard used his first name.  'How did he know my name? What's going on?' Harry thought to himself.  Goddard continued to stare at him. Harry nodded slowly, "I'm all right."

***

September 1st 

            "Really, Albus, he doesn't look well," Goddard informed Dumbledore, while they entered the Great Hall.

            "Harry?" Dumbledore inquired.

            "No, the other boy who has faced Voldemort countless times."

            "Really, Atticus, that was a bit unnecessary." Dumbledore admonished. Goddard sighed. Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Well, do you think I should send him to Poppy?" 

            "I think that would be best," Goddard replied, "I'll take him."

            "Don't let your guard down. Don't mention… just… don't let your emotions get in the way." Dumbledore finished.

            "Don't worry.  I've got it under control." 

TO BE CONTINUED…

MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHa

A/n 

Quillow: Hey, that was fun… we should try sticking post it notes on our butts next time instead of the wall.

Nuwanda: …and that would help…how?

Quillow: For one thing, I think the plot would be much more interesting.  And post it notes on your butt can be a great icebreaker or conversation piece.

Nuwanda:  True, true.  I still can't believe I let you talk me into writing an angst fic w/ you, especially without slash in it.  Meh.  I like Harry/Draco fanfic…just…meh.

Quillow: ANGST! drools ANGST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Nuwanda:  SLASH!  drools  SLAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!  Well, if it can't be slash, I still think that Draco should be in leather.

Quillow: Meh, I personally want to see Goddard in leather sigh. Anyways please be kind and review… it will greatly improve both our pathetic lives.  

Nuwanda:  Any and all flames will be used to….to…well, they sure won't be used for anything helpful.  

Quillow: We do, however, accept constructive criticism.  Muah! Have a great night!

Nuwanda:  passes out from a nosebleed at the thought of Goddard AND Draco BOTH wearing leather


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Disengage

Spoilers: Well, 3rd and 4th book but you should read all the books so you have a good background also Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

Summary: Harry Potter wants to forget the events from fourth year.  Draco Malfoy wants nothing more than to beat his father at something. Both must embark on a quest that neither asked for.  A quest that involves life altering events: hate and death, love and life.  This time the rulebook has been thrown out the window, and all bets are off.

Pairings: Well since Quillow does not really like Draco/Harry slash (because she can't picture it) and Nuwanda does like Draco/Harry, Quillow has relented and is allowing Nuwanda to write an alternate ending that is slashed for those of you who enjoy slash.  If you don't enjoy slash the main story will been unslashed.

Disclaimer: The hallowed halls of Hogwarts are not ours.  Draco does not belong to Nuwanda.  Harry doesn't belong to Quillow.  Goddard sort of belongs to us but not entirely.  Snape silky voice and greasy hair doesn't belong to us.  Madam Pomfrey and Albus Dumbledore don't belong to us (we personally think that they should belong to each other… but that is another story.)  We're just biding our time until the fifth book comes out which probably won't be until after we graduate.  What a cruel world we live in.

Dedication: Weasleyfreak! Yeah! Our 1 reviewer!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!

A/N at the end

Chapter 2

            Harry felt an overwhelming sense of happiness when he finally entered Hogwarts.  It had been an extremely long summer, and now finally it was over.  He was safe back at Hogwarts, and although his feelings were mixed over the events of the previous year, he still knew that he was where he belonged.  Yet there was still this noticeable void in the school.  The kind of void there is after someone has left for good and there is an irreplaceable hole in the hearts of everyone.  Ron and Hermione might have seemed concerned, but they could not truly know what Harry was going through, or what he was feeling for that matter.  They hadn't seen someone die in front of their eyes; they hadn't been haunted by nightmares of the same event for nights in a row.  Harry didn't want anyone to know how terrible it felt, not even Sirius, who he used to believe he could have told anything.  He now made his way up the stairs towards the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione by his side.  Hermione was talking about her trip to Bulgaria to visit Victor Krum, and Ron was proceeding to turn a very interesting shade of pink.  'At least some things never change,' Harry mused to himself.

            "Really, Bulgaria has such a lovely countryside..." Hermione said animatedly.

            "You had time to notice it even though you spent your whole visit snogging with Krum?" Ron insinuated.

            "I did _not _spend my time snogging with Victor Krum!" Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

            "And _I _do not want to spend my whole fifth year listening to you two bickering constantly about Krum and Bulgaria.  I could care less what went on between you two, unless a new Quidditch move was invented," Harry said in mock exaggeration.

            "She started it!" whined Ron.

            "I did _not_, we're both at fault, stop being so childish!" Hermione said, punching Ron playfully in the arm.  Harry rolled his eyes.  As they were about to enter the Great Hall, Professor Goddard approached them.

            "Mr. Potter, you are to come with me, as per Professor Dumbledore's orders."  Harry looked cautiously at Professor Goddard.  This could easily be a set up. For all he knew Goddard could be as much an imposter as Mad-Eye Moody was.  He looked into Professor Goddard's eyes and felt he saw something familiar, something he knew was real, something he could trust.

            "Okay," Harry replied slowly, "Ron, Hermione, I'll see you guys later."

            Hermione and Ron both waved goodbye to Harry as they continued into the Great Hall.  Harry turned back towards Professor Goddard and started to walk with him.  

            "So, Mr. Potter, how was your summer?"

            "I'm sorry, Professor Goddard, but with all due respect, where are we going?" Harry inquired.

            "Madam Pomfrey's," Goddard stated succinctly.

            "Why?"

            "It's Professor Dumbledore's orders," Goddard said evenly.

            "There's nothing wrong with me!  Why do I have to go see Madam Pomfrey?!  It isn't even the first day of school yet!"

            "If there is indeed nothing wrong with you then I think it is safe to say that you have nothing to worry about."  Harry glared at Goddard as they entered the Hospital Wing.

            "Harry, dear," Madam Pomfrey called out.  Harry walked up to her and she made a small indication that he was to sit in the chair before her.  "So," she began, "How was your summer?"

            "My summer?  It was the usual," Harry replied noncommittally as he folded his arms across his chest.

            "The usual?  What does that mean?" Madam Pomfrey prodded.

            'She's a nosy git,' Harry thought angrily to himself.  "I mostly did chores and tried to stay out of my family's way," he said aloud.

            "Have you been eating enough?" 

            "Yes, my whole summer has been filled with sweets and ice cream," Harry said with sarcasm.  Goddard and Pomfrey met each other's eyes briefly before Madam Pomfrey gave Harry with a withering look.

            "Let me translate for Madam Pomfrey," Goddard interrupted, "we want to know the truth.  There is absolutely no need to be sarcastic."

            Harry sighed and looked at his feet.  "Well, basically grapefruit halves and old birthday cake is what I've been living on since I left Hogwarts."

            "Just what I thought, those lousy Muggles.  A growing boy like you needs plenty of mashed potatoes, you're already underweight as it is," Madam Pomfrey tutted and left to get something from her office.

            Suddenly, Albus Dumbledore entered the Hospital Wing.  "Hello, Harry.  I see you've met Professor Goddard.  Thank you, Atticus, for bringing Harry up here.  I think that it is time for you to join the other teachers at the staff table in the Great Hall, though."

            Goddard looked as if he might protest, but Dumbledore gave him a look that basically said not to question Dumbledore's judgment. "Goodbye Mr. Potter, I look forward to seeing you in my class," he said warmly.  Harry shook his hand, and Goddard left.  Harry had a strange notion that he had met the man before.

            Madam Pomfrey bustled back in and handed Harry a small vial of potion.  "Drink all of that," she insisted.  Harry unstoppered the bottle and drank it in one gulp.  He grimaced over the sour taste.

            "Ugh! What is that? It tasted horribly!" Harry demanded.

            "It's just a nutritional supplement.  Hello Albus," she greeted cheerily, noticing him for the first time.

            "Poppy," he nodded, "if you would please leave Mr. Potter and I alone to talk."

            "Certainly.  If you need anything, I'll be in my office," she said, turning to leave. 

            After she had left and shut the door, Dumbledore turned to look at Harry.  "I am not going to ask how your summer was because I am sure it was most miserable."  Harry did not know how Dumbledore was able to figure out how lousy he was feeling before even hearing him talk.  It was as if the man could read minds.  "I know it hasn't been easy, Harry.  Living the whole summer with the Dursleys, not being able to visit Mr. Weasley and his family, but believe me, the precaution was very necessary."

            Harry nodded in false understanding.  He was still a little mad that Dumbledore had not let him visit Ron.  "Harry, have you had any dreams?" Dumbledore interrupted his stream of consciousness.

            "Yes and no," Harry admitted.  It was no use lying to the headmaster, he didn't feel up to it.  Dumbledore cocked his head slightly to the side. "Mostly all my dreams had to do with the third task."

            "Ah yes," Dumbledore smiled sympathetically, "How long have you been dreaming about that?"

            "...A lot."

            "Every night?" Dumbledore prodded further.

            "Yes," Harry admitted.  Concern flitted momentarily across Dumbledore's features.

            "Why have you not told anyone?" He asked softly.

            "They're just normal nightmares.  No use worrying anyone."

            "Would you like some help sleeping tonight?" Dumbledore questioned.  Harry looked up at him with a confused expression.  "I could permit you to have Dreamless Sleep Potion tonight..."

            "As long as I can sleep in the dormitory instead of here," Harry interrupted.

            "Agreed," Dumbledore searched through the pockets of his robes and pulled out a flask of Dreamless Sleep Potion for Harry, "Drink all of that when you get up to the fifth year dorms."  Harry nodded and accepted the bottle, not even questioning the fact that Dumbledore carried dreamless sleep potion on him.

            "You may leave now, Harry.  I believe that the feast should be over.  The password to Gryffindor is Phoenix."  Harry nodded and said goodbye.  Dumbledore watched him leave.  "Well, what do you think, Severus?" Albus inquired softly.  The figure of Severus Snape appeared from the shadows of the hospital wing.  He turned to Dumbledore and exchanged a dark look.  

* * *

            'There's nothing worse,' Harry mused to himself, 'than having double potions with the Slytherins the first day back...' 

            "Potter...pay...ATTENTION!"  Snape snarled from behind his desk.  "It won't pay off to fall asleep in my class this year!  Your OWLs are coming up, and I won't be giving out easy grades as I did in previous years!"

            At Snape's words, Neville fell out of his seat, and even Hermione proceeded to turn a very interesting shade of puce.  

            "Today," Snape continued, "we will be making the Sueur Dents Fou Potion, also known as the sweaty toothed madman potion, does anyone know what it does?" Hermione's hand shot into the air.

            'Typical...' Snape thought to himself.  "How about... Potter?"

            Harry glanced up at Snape thinking that perhaps it would have been a good idea to pay attention to Snape's class instead of daydreaming while looking at the cauldron fires.  "I don't know..." Harry replied hoarsely.

            "What was that?" Snape said, smiling in glee, "I can't hear you? You'll have to speak up."

            "I said that I don't know, _sir_." Harry emphasized his words slowly and deliberately.

            "Five points for your cheek, Potter," the Slytherins smiled in triumph.  Harry wished he could wipe the especially smug look off of Malfoy's face.  Snape was now subjecting Lavender Brown to humiliation, and Harry turned his attention back to the flames.  'Draco looked so great as a ferret,' Harry thought silently to himself, he smirked, 'being bounced up, and down, up, and down... up... down....' He almost started giggling, except Hermione kicked him from under the table.  

            "Pay attention!" Hermione whispered under her breath.

            "Miss Granger, 5 points from Gryffindor for whispering under your breath!" Too bad Snape had such excellent hearing, "Perhaps you can redeem yourself? What does the potion do?"

            "It protects the drinker from a sweaty toothed madman.  The stare that pounds your brain from the madman is almost like a basilisk stare.  It is almost as fatal, but not quite," Hermione explained.  Snape didn't even acknowledge that it was the correct answer, everyone already knew that it was.

            "Here are the ingredients and directions," Snape said, indicating the board, "when you are done put the finished potion in a blue stoppered flask.  Be sure to put your name on it.  We will be testing it tomorrow."

            The class continued in silence as everyone started to mix the potions.  During the 15-minute simmering time Draco finally spoke up, "Professor, what is this I hear about a fencing team at Hogwarts?"

            A small smile appeared on Snape's lips, "Yes, Mr. Malfoy, there is one.  It will meet in the Great Hall at 8 o'clock.  The Gryffindors are welcome to attend, if they aren't too scared."  The bell caused the sudden murmurs in the classroom to come to a halt.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione labeled their flasks and placed them on Snape's desk.  The three got ready to go to their next class, Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Slytherins.  

            "Potter, you will stay behind," Snape said silkily.  

            Harry turned around and looked at him.  He turned back to Ron and Hermione, "Tell Professor Goddard that I will be late to his class."

            Hermione and Ron nodded, and left him behind.  

            "Follow me," Snape stated succinctly.  Harry followed him over to the student store of potion ingredients.  "Here you will find lacewings, toad scales, rose hips, earl gray…"

            Harry had already started tuning him out.  He stared at Snape.  Suddenly, he pictured Snape in Neville's Grandmother's vulture hat.  

            "POTTER! WHAT IS SO FUNNY?" Snape barked.

            "I'm sorry sir," Harry said softly.

            "Well then? Do you know what these ingredients make?" Snape questioned.

            "No, sir."

            "You don't know what lacewings, toad scales, rose hips, earl gray… What _these_ ingredients make?" Snape questioned again, losing his patience.

            "No sir, I don't."

            "Stupid boy, idiot child!" Snape ranted at him.  Harry's eyes flashed momentarily and then went dull.  Snape immediately regretted his harsh tone with the boy.  He wouldn't go back upon his words though; he felt that all the coddling Potter got from others would never help him when it came time for the battle that lay before them.

            "Well sir, what do they make?" Harry asked.

            "A dreamless sleep potion.  I heard that maybe… after the some of the events of last year… That perhaps…"

             "I don't need your help!" He looked darkly at Snape, slung his book satchel over his shoulder, and left the room.  The door slammed behind him.

            Snape turned and stared at his cauldron.  "He hides his emotions well," he mused out loud to himself.

* * *

            Harry walked into the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom about 15 minutes into the lesson.  Ron and Hermione had saved him a seat between them.  As Harry sat down, Professor Goddard looked at him and acknowledged his presence with a nod.

            "We're learning how to banish and eventually defeat lethifolds," Hermione whispered to Harry.  She pointed to the left side of the room where what appeared to be an ordinary cloak was behind a magical protective field.  Harry fought the urge to shudder when he saw it slither on the ground.

            "Does anyone know the only known way to banish a lethifold?" Professor Goddard inquired.  Hermione raised her hand.  "Miss Granger?"

            "The only known way to banish a lethifold was discovered by Flavius Belby.  He tried many charms including Stupefy and then the Impediment Hex.  He then used the Patronus charm, which successfully banished the beast," Hermione's answer sounded as though it came straight from the textbook.

            "Correct, Miss Granger, 10 points to Gryffindor," Goddard smiled at her, "Now, does anyone know how the Patronus charm works? Hmm? Mr. Potter, how about you?"

            "You think of the happiest moment you can possibly think of and then you say expecto patronum," Harry answered.

            "Excellent Mr. Potter, 10 points to Gryffindor.  Today we will practice and start perfecting the Patronus Charm.  Eventually we will test it on the lethifold.  Everyone pair off."  

Ron and Hermione looked at Harry as if they were at a loss about what to do.  "You two pair off," Harry finally said.

"Really?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, it's fine," Harry assured.

"If you are sure…" Hermione looked at Harry.  Harry nodded and Hermione smiled.  Harry looked around to see who he was going to partner with.  Everyone seemed to have a partner.  Everyone, that is, except Malfoy.  As he made his way towards the opposite side of the classroom he heard Ron say, "Yeah Hermione, I bet your happy memory involves you and Krum snogging!"

"For the last time Ron, I did not _snog _Krum!" Hermione said in exasperation.

Harry shook his head to himself.  "Well Malfoy, I guess it is you and me," Harry looked at Malfoy with disdain.

"Don't act excited or anything," Malfoy replied, moving towards the edge of the room with Harry.

Goddard clapped his hands and the desks moved so that there was room in the middle of the classroom. "Okay, you and your partner are going to alternate trying to conjure a patronus. Remember, you must think of a happy memory first.  Would anyone like to share a memory? How about you Mr. Longbottom?"

"When I won 10 points in 1st year," Neville said sheepishly, but he smiled slightly afterwards.  Draco snickered.

"What was that Mr. Malfoy? Would you like to share your memory?"  Goddard inquired.

"No, sir," Draco drawled.

"Right then.  Okay so you will aim your wand at your partner and say expecto patronum, and a silvery patronus will appear.  Don't worry, the patronuses won't hurt you, they don't harm humans.  Don't be discouraged if you don't get one on your first try.  Sometimes finding a different or happier memory will work.  You may begin," Goddard began to wander from pair to pair as students tried to conjure patronuses. 

"You first," Malfoy said to Harry. Harry aimed his wand at Draco and tried to think of his happiest memory.  Probably the time they won Quidditch cup in 3rd year.  Nothing happy had happened last year.  "Expecto Patronum!" Harry shouted.  A small, silvery and cloudy stag appeared from Harry's wand and almost immediately dissipated.

"Admirable patronus, Mr. Potter, 5 points to Gryffindor."  Goddard called over his shoulder.

"Your turn," Harry said smoothly as he moved in front of Malfoy.

Draco tried to conjure a happy memory.  He scanned all his memories.  There wasn't really a happy moment.  He finally decided on the memory of him almost beating his father at fencing.  Draco aimed his wand at Harry, "Expecto Patronum." Nothing happened.  Not even a little jet of silver, not even a little bit of smoke, absolutely nothing.

"Perhaps that memory wasn't happy enough?" Harry suggested.

Draco gave him a withering look as he pocketed his wand and strode angrily towards the door.  "Mr. Malfoy, where do you think you are going?"  Goddard yelled after him.  Malfoy turned and looked at him, and then promptly left.  

"10 points from Slytherin!" Goddard yelled after him.  The bell rang, and Goddard sighed.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione gathered their books and made their way towards the Great Hall for lunch.  

"Sorry you had to work with that slimy git, Harry." Ron muttered.

"It's all right…"

"Did you see though, Malfoy can't even remotely conjure a patronus.  Ridiculous really, not even a little bit of silver!" Ron said gleefully.

"Ron, have you ever thought that perhaps he doesn't have a happy enough memory to conjure one?"  Hermione said neutrally.

"Don't rain on my parade, Hermione," Ron whined.

Draco unexpectedly appeared in front of them, blocking their way.  "Yes, perhaps everyone's life can't be as wonderful and happy as the famous Harry Potter."

"Harry's life isn't all wonderful or extremely happy for that matter, Malfoy," Ron advanced on Draco, but Hermione held the back of his robes.

"Whatever.  I'll see you tonight at 8 o'clock, that is, if you aren't too afraid of getting your asses kicked."  Draco glared at Harry, and then turned and walked away.

* * *

            The Great Hall was filled with most of the students in the school.  All the tables had been shoved to the sides at first, but had to be magicked out as the room quickly filled with more students.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood with most of their Gryffindor friends.

            "I wonder how _this'll_ turn out," Ron said.  "Snape holding another club?  I mean, he's not exactly the most _social_ person in the world, is he?"

            "Well, Goddard's helping him," Hermione pointed out reasonably.  "And he's _very_ sociable."

            Harry silently pondered it.  Goddard strongly reminded him of someone.  'If only I could figure out who...'

            The doors to the Great Hall blew open, crashing back against the stone walls.  Snape stormed into the room in his usual annoyed manner, robes flapping behind him as if he were some overgrown bat.  Goddard walked in behind Snape, crimson robes swinging easily around him as he loped easily into the room, smiling his usual happy-to-be-here smile.  Goddard pulled his wand out of his robes and twirled it casually before pointing at the front of the Hall.

            "Etager!"  Immediately, a stage appeared in the front of the hall, big fancy curtains and all.  Goddard sighed, looking extremely aggrieved.  Several girls in the front who were mooning over him giggled at the over-exaggerated look of displeasure on his face.  "Rigius!"  The curtains disappeared, leaving the stage behind.  Snape went up first, snapping his fingers.  A bag of fencing equipment appeared on the stage.  Goddard soon joined him, casting off his robes as he went.

            "Hello, everyone!" Goddard smiled.  Many of the students hollered greetings back at him, grinning.  "Today, as you all know, we're going to be teaching you...fencing.  Now, some of you may have done this before, and others may be just starting.  Therefore, we will now go over some moves that every fencer needs to know, such as en garde, parries 4, 6, 7 and 8, repost, recover forwards, and the proper form for advancing and retreating.  Everyone spread out, and…" Goddard twirled his wand again and pointed it at the crowd of students as they spread evenly about the room.  "Apparo!"  Immediately, a foil appeared next to every student.  "There we are...now...for Scot's sake, spread out more!" he cried good-naturedly.  "Can't teach you how to fence if you're all bunched up!"

            After the students spread out enough so that everyone could see, Goddard pulled out a foil of his own, and Snape did the same.  The two began demonstrating different fencing moves to the students, pausing to correct (in Snape's case) or compliment (Goddard) where it was needed.  After forty five minutes passed and students were beginning to get the hang of it all, Goddard stopped them.

            "Now you all know a bit of fencing how-to's.  Okay, so we're looking for a volunteer."  Hands immediately shot into the air.  "Now, now, now, we only need _one_...we already have a student to help with the demonstrations...one who has fenced before."  At the mention of previous experience, half of the hands went down.  Goddard grinned.  "What, such a lack of courage?"  His honeyed eyes scanned the crowd eagerly, smile widening as he caught sight of a familiar face.  "Aha, yes, I think...Harry Potter!"

            Harry slowly pushed his way to the front of the room and climbed the steps up to the stage.  Goddard smiled warmly at him.  Snape glowered.

            "Now, where is our other volunteer?  I think...ohhh... Severus, will you call him?"

            Snape looked extremely displeased at Goddard's use of his first name, but complied, snapping his fingers loudly.  "Malfoy, if you _don't_ mind!"  A gasp ran through the crowd gathered.  Harry felt his heart sink.  'I have to fight _Malfoy_?!'  The mutterings ceased almost immediately as Draco appeared on the scene, slowly climbing up the stairs to join them on the stage, smiling at Harry as if to let him know that Draco had one up on 'The Boy Who Lived'...which indeed he did.  Draco had experience, and was already prepared, foil in hand.

            "Hello, Potter," he said, sounding overly pleasant.  Turning away from Harry, he walked to the side of the stage where Snape was standing and stripped off his robes.  He was clad all in black: black pants, black fencing shoes, black glove on his weapon hand, and one tight black t-shirt.  In one hand was a black bag, presumably holding the rest of his equipment and his foil.

            "Preparing for a porn career, Malfoy?" Harry shot.  Draco laughed.

            "Ah, in your dreams, Potter," he drawled.  "And while I'm sure living out your fantasies would be _ever_ so much fun, I'd rather beat the shit out of you with a sword.  So let's go."  Turning again, Draco pulled out the fencing equipment he was lacking: a half jacket and the heavy fencing jacket one wears on top.  He slid the half-jacket on over his right arm and, using his teeth, pulled his glove off.  After pulling his jacket on, he replaced his glove, tucking his sleeve into it.  Watching him, Harry thought to himself 'I am in really deep shit.'  Draco seemed so sure of himself.  'Okay, he _always_ seems sure of himself.'  Still, this Draco was different.  This Draco obviously knew just what he was doing.  Harry turned to Goddard.

            "Ummm...I don't..." he began, flushing.  Goddard smiled.  

            "Here, Harry," he said softly.  Harry realized that Goddard was holding a half jacket out to him.  "Robes off," he continued, whispering so no one would hear.  Harry complied, and Goddard handed him the half jacket.  "Over your sword arm...same as your wand arm...now this."  Harry put the jacket on over the half one, pulled a glove on over it all, and accepted the mask his professor offered. 

"Now," Goddard continued, "hold your hand over the bag and concentrate hard.  A foil will present itself."  Harry did as Goddard said.  Reaching shakily out, he put his hand palm down over the bag of swords, thinking hard about choosing the right one and kicking Malfoy's obnoxious ass.  Almost immediately, a foil jumped into Harry's hand.  He looked up at Goddard, smiling, and Goddard returned the look.  "Good, Harry.  Now go kick some ass."  Harry turned to face Malfoy, who was smirking at him, mask under his arm.

            "Ready, then, Potter?" he drawled.  Harry nodded.

            "Whenever you are, Malfoy."

            Draco smiled.  "Right, then, Potter.  Salute the judges, salute me, and we'll get down to business."  The fencing salutes were given- a quick couple of sword swishes- and Draco moved immediately into en garde in the fencing square.

            Snape and Goddard stood off to the side, watching them.  "Begin," Snape said.

            Immediately, Draco ran at Harry, sword outstretched.  Harry barely had time to comprehend what was happening before Draco was a foot away, Draco's foil was connecting with his chest, the magical judge was dinging loudly to signify that a hit was given, and Harry was wondering what the hell had happened.  

            "One hit," Snape smirked.  Draco turned his back on Harry, pacing back to the starting point, flicking his wrist slightly and cutting through the air with his foil, making a loud swishing noise.  He turned back to face Harry, not looking smug as Harry would expect from him, but...contemplative.  He looked as if he knew exactly what he was doing, but he wasn't going to get overly self-assured and do something stupid that would result in his losing the match to an amateur.  And that was what Harry was, an amateur.  Harry mentally kicked himself for being so stupid and moved back into en garde.  

            "Go," Goddard called.  Draco advanced again, quickly, but not at the astonishing speed he had displayed before.  Harry realized in shock that Draco was going easy on him.  The last advance had merely been done to prove a point- you are out of your league.  Now that he had exhibited and proved his talent, Draco was going to let Harry have a little easier go of it.  The thought that Draco was going easy on him infuriated Harry.  As Draco neared, Harry retreated slightly, parried Draco's attack and thrust the sword forward.  A look of surprise registered in Draco's eyes, and he smiled.  Apparently he realized that Harry Potter was no pushover.  And Draco Malfoy was not one for doing one by halves if he didn't have to.  

Draco immediately upped the temp, pretending to parry Harry's attack.  As Harry went to disengage, swinging his foil around Draco's instead of merely dipping it around and then going to attack again, Draco disengaged Harry's disengage.  The continual unexpected twirling Draco executed on Harry's foil surprised Harry and Draco effectively disarmed Harry, knocking the foil from Harry's hand.  Before the foil hit the ground, Draco had repost, lunging forwards and executing a perfect hit on Harry's chest and pulling quickly back.  The weapon hit the floor with a loud clatter, Harry staring at Draco in shock, Draco smirking at Harry through his mask.  The magical judge rang off another hit.

            "Hit two for Draco," Goddard said, smiling in somewhat grudging respect, but also giving Harry a smile of encouragement.  Draco paced back to his side of the square, and Harry felt his blood boil as he watched his archenemy.  This time, the instant Snape announced the start of the match; Harry advanced, rushing at Draco.  Draco let out a laugh, rushing to meet Harry midway, performing a complicated twirl, sword slicing through the air and meeting Harry's foil midway.  The blades clashed together, Draco grinning at Harry, Harry glaring.  

            "Not bad, Potter," Draco hissed through the mask, "not bad at all."  He was still grinning, but this only infuriated Harry more.  Shoving hard on Draco's foil, Harry pushed Draco away from him and dove forwards, blade outstretched, free hand dropping down to his side as he went into the traditional fencing lunge.  Draco's eyes widened in shock as he felt the tip of the foil connect with his chest and the ringing noise sounded again.  The Gryffindors and other students all applauded loudly. All of them except the Slytherins.  It was Harry's turn to smirk at Draco.  To his surprise, Draco was smiling at him with a look of almost...admiration.

            "Not bad at all, Potter," he shook his head, smiling in disbelief.  "Not bad at all...though I'm not surprised, seeing as it's you...always top at everything."  Harry glared.

            "Two for Draco, one for Harry," Goddard said, sounding immensely pleased.  "Let's go, boys.  One more hit for Draco and it's finished...two more are needed for Harry.  Begin!"

            Neither boy moved.  Both Harry and Draco stayed in en garde position, Draco grinning, obviously baiting Harry, Harry looking grimly at Draco.  For several long moments, neither boy moved.   The crowd shuffled nervously.

            "What's he _doing_?!" Ron demanded, whispering anxiously to Hermione.

            "I don't know," she said, "but he _must_ have a reason.  Look at Goddard!"

            Professor Goddard was looking back and forth between the two contestants, grinning broadly as if he was in on an important secret.  In reality, he just knew that face offs of this kind usually resulted in a dramatic finish to a fencing match.  Even Snape was smiling slightly.  He seemed to be sure of Draco's success.

            Harry and Draco continued to stare at each other.  Finally, Draco spoke up, loud enough for the entire room to hear him.  "Oh, the hell with it!"  Forgoing all fencing stances, Draco full out ran at Harry, arm extended.  Harry advanced to meet him.  The blades clashed together loudly, Draco attacking and Harry parrying, then switching.  Draco laughed as they battled, obviously having the time of his life.  Harry thought he had finally achieved the perfect opportunity for a hit when he disengaged twice, knocking Draco's foil into the air.  Draco proved him wrong.  As the foil took to the air, Draco simply caught it in his left hand and brought it clashing against Harry's sword.  Seeing the look of shock in Harry's eyes, Draco smiled.  "Ever heard of the term 'ambidextrous,' Potter?"  Harry glared and Draco grinned.  "Thought you might've."  

Draco shoved Harry off, and the match took up where it had left off.  Harry had to admit with grudging respect that Draco was as good with his left hand as with his right.  He was an excellent fencer; at least as good as anyone Harry had ever seen in any of those old adventure movies, if not better.  As Draco moved to attack next, Harry raised his sword to block it.  The blades collided loudly and more fiercely than they had before.  When they hit, the force of it seemed to shatter Harry's foil.  The foil broke in half; the end of it clattered to the stage, the sound deafening in the otherwise silent room.  Slowly, almost everyone in the Great Hall began to applaud.  The move _had_ been impressive.  Goddard's mouth was hanging open in complete shock, Snape was looking triumphant, as if he had known it would happen all along.  The applause slowed down and then stopped completely.

            Draco pulled his mask off.  "Give me your foil, Potter," he said quietly.  Harry complied, pulling off his own mask.  Draco took the foil from Harry and went down on one knee.  He picked up the piece on the floor and held it up next to the part still attached to the hilt, examining them closely.  Standing, he dropped the foil next to its bag with a clatter.  "Weak blade...going to break sooner or later."  He regarded Harry absently, shaking his head in detached amusement.  "Trust you to choose a broken sword, Potter."

            Harry felt his blood boil.  "Do you always need to be such a royal pain in the ass, Malfoy?!"

            Draco grinned.  "Not _my_ fault your sword shattered, Potter.  Why blame me?"

            Harry scowled.  "Just...let me go get another, so we can finish this damn match."  Turning, Harry stalked to the other side of the stage.  Still grinning broadly, Draco softly whispered "Accio!" and the foil his father had given him flew out of his fencing bag into his hands.

            "Hey," he called out loudly, "Catch, Potter!" He tossed the fencing foil towards Harry.  Harry swung around, and saw the light shine off the thin sword as it flew at his head.  He reached out, and grabbed a hold of it.

* * *

            At Malfoy manor, Lucius sat in the drawing room.  A sudden stinging pain rose up on his arm, just where the Dark Mark was permanently burned.  "He's got it!" a low voice hissed through his head, "Do it now!"  Quickly, Lucius pressed one finger against the branding on his arm, activating the portkey.

* * *

            Harry only held on to the sword for a second or two.  Almost immediately after catching it, he vanished.

            The room full of people fell deathly silent.  There was a loud clatter towards the center of the room. Draco had dropped his foil in shock.  He stood, mouth agape, at the spot where only a moment before, Harry Potter had been.  The silence finally ended as the room broke into a tumultuous roar.  Professor Goddard stared for a moment, looked to Draco, then back to the spot where Harry had been.  His hands rose of their own accord and he clutched his hair as if he would go mad.  For a second, no more, it seemed as if his hair had turned black, then flickered back to its light brown shade.  Hermione stared.

            "Ron!" she hissed, attempting to get the redhead's attention.  Ron, meanwhile, was in a state of panic about Harry's whereabouts.  "RON!"  Hermione smacked Ron's shoulder.  Immediately stopping all action, Ron turned and looked at Hermione with wide, injured eyes.

            "O.w," he said slowly, annunciating the word.  Hermione smacked him again.  "OW!" he cried once more.  "WHAT?!"

            "Look closely at Goddard!" Hermione whispered.  Ron turned, looked, and did a double take.  "See what I mean?" Hermione prodded.

            "His hair..." Ron breathed.  "He looks almost like.... like...."

            "Like Sirius," Hermione finished grimly.

* * *

            While the rest of the room sat stupefied, Snape almost immediately took action.  Grabbing Goddard by the shoulders, he shoved him towards the roaring fireplace, pausing only to throw a pinch of Floo powder in before shoving Goddard into the fire.  "My office!" Snape growled, only adding under his breath "...before you reveal yourself, for God's sake!"  Goddard vanished into the fire, a look of protest on his face as he faded from sight.  Snape turned back to face the assembled students.

            "You...go back.  Return to your dormitories."  Snape's eyes swept over the room, glaring at the students, but it wasn't hard to see the worried look behind the fury written there.  Turning, he was about to step into the fire himself, when he caught himself.  Turning again, he grabbed Draco by the collar.  "You too...come with me!"  With that, Snape did indeed step into the fire, dragging Draco with him.

            Draco stood stunned as he spun through the grates on his way to Snape's office.  He had never traveled with another person before, not since he was very little.  His father had insisted on him doing practically everything by himself from a very young age, and therefore his first double trip (that he could remember) unsettled him.  He could feel Snape's hand tight on his collar, the restraining force keeping him balanced, but to Draco, it was suffocating.  When the fire finally spat the two of them out into Snape's office, Draco tumbled out onto all fours on the floor, coughing heavily, one hand clutching his throat.

            "On your feet, Draco," Snape yanked Draco rather roughly to his feet, keeping one hand on the boy's shoulder until he caught his balance.  Professor Goddard was sitting in the nearest chair, his face buried in his hands.  Snape let go of Draco and paced over, a look of frustration and fury on his face.

            "Get a hold of yourself!" Snape shook Goddard's shoulder.  Goddard lifted his face out of his hands, looking up at Snape half in despair, half in anger, and Draco backed up against the wall in shock.  It wasn't Goddard sitting three feet away from him.  It was Sirius Black!

            "Ssirius....Bblack?!" Draco stammered, stunned.  His hands scrambled against the wall behind him, desperately seeking for a hold on something that could help him retain his quickly fading sanity.

            "Yes, Mr. Malfoy, it's me," Sirius responded angrily.  Rising out of his chair, Sirius advanced on Draco until he was less than a foot away.  He in turn grabbed Draco by the collar, this time lifting the blond boy into the air, about an inch away from his own face.  "What did you do with him, Malfoy?!" he demanded crazily.  "What did you _do_ with him?!"  Sirius' hands held tight around the boy's slim neck, and Draco clutched at his captor's hands, struggling for breath.

            "Stop, Black!" Snape demanded.  Sirius ignored Snape's demands, and Draco's normally pale face began to flush red from lack of air.  "I said _STOP_, Sirius!"  Snape grabbed Sirius' wrist.  Sirius turned, his eyes glazed over, and stared at Snape.  Snape stared back at him, trying to keep his face calm.  "Let him go, Sirius."  Very slowly, Sirius relinquished his hold on Draco, who fell to the floor again.  Draco pulled out his silk handkerchief once again, coughing violently into it.

            Snape let go of Sirius's wrist, staring down at Draco.  The pale blond boy was on all fours once more, no longer coughing, but unwilling to look up. 

            "Now, Draco," Snape walked slowly past Draco to his desk.  "Suppose you tell us...just what _did_ happen?"  Attempting to remain calm, Snape rested one hand on his desk.  Draco refused to look up, his back heaving up and down as he took deep breaths, attempting to control his emotions.  "Draco!" Snape's voice was commanding, and Draco froze at the sound of it, his labored breathing ceasing.  "Do I need to prepare some Veritaserum?"  At this, Draco's hands clenched into fists, and a rasping sound almost like a dry sob escaped him.    

            "No..." Draco whispered, his voice sounding choked and forced.  "I..." he broke off and Snape waited impatiently for him to continue.  "It was...."

            "Sit up, boy, and look me in the eye," Snape ordered.  Draco slowly uncurled his hands, palms flat on the floor, and pushed himself so that he was kneeling in front of them, but he still kept his head down.

            "It...it was..." Draco clung tightly to his handkerchief, wringing it tightly in both hands with nervousness.  "It was..." looking down, Draco whispered the last words.  "...My father."

            "Your father?" Snape repeated softly.  Draco's head nodded twice, the boy looked truly miserable.

            "Yes...my father.  He told me ahead of time that there would be a fencing team here...he-" Draco continued.  Snape listened in silence and Sirius stared at Draco in horror as slowly, the entire story came out.  When Draco finished explaining, the room fell completely silent.  Draco sat on the floor, perfectly still but for the twisting of the handkerchief.  Snape looked at Sirius.

            "So, he's after Harry again," Snape said.  "A new type of portkey that's activated when a certain person holds it.  Voldemort must have a certain connection to Harry, now that he shares the boy's blood."  The room was silent.  "We had better go to Dumbledore," Snape finished grimly, and Sirius nodded wordlessly in reply.  Snape looked down at Draco.  The blond boy seemed to sense Snape's attention.  Slowly, Draco lifted his head and cautiously met Snape's eyes.  Snape shook his head, looking at the boy in barely controlled anger.  "You foolish boy."

            At Snape's words, Draco bowed his head again.  Sirius glared.

            "And what should we do with _him_?"

            Snape sighed.  "Lock him in his dormitory, I suppose."

            Sirius frowned.  "Where do you think the portkey took him?"

            "I'm not sure," Snape replied wearily.  

            "I...I think," Draco spoke up timidly.  "I think it might-"

            "He could be _anywhere_!" Sirius interrupted, panic written in his voice.  "Last time he ended up in a graveyard in some muggle town!"

            "I said, I _think_-" Draco began again.  Snape cast Draco a withering glance before turning back to Sirius.  Draco glared and pushed on.  "I _think_ he'd be-"

            "That's _enough_, Draco!" Snape hissed.  "You've done quite enough already.  You'll be going to your dormitory now."  Grabbing Draco by the collar yet again, Snape dragged him to the fire.  "Follow me, Black."  Snape threw a pinch of Floo Powder in the fire.  "The Slytherin fifth year dormitory!"

            Within seconds, they were there.  The room was empty still; all the students were down in the common room discussing the mysterious events of the fencing club, even though none of the three were aware of that.  Snape threw Draco forwards.

            "You'll be staying here, Draco," he said, angrily shoving hair out of his face and turning to Sirius.  "We'll go to Dumbledore and inform him of the situation.  He'll know what to do."

            Sirius nodded and both stepped closer to the fire.  "Professor Dumbledore's office!" Sirius called, and disappeared.

            "Wait!" Draco cried, as Snape stepped towards the fire.  "I have to tell you!  Harry is probably-"

            At that moment, Snape hissed "Dumbledore's office!" and vanished into the flames.  Draco stared into the fire, handkerchief twisted tightly in his hands.

            "...At my house," he finished softly.  As he wrung the handkerchief still tighter, it cut into his hands.  Blood dripped from the cut, soaking the silk fabric and dripping slowly onto the floor.  Slowly, Draco sank to his knees on the floor.  Letting the bloody handkerchief drop to the floor, he lifted his shaking hands, palm up, and stared with unblinking eyes at the wide gashes- one on each palm- that now ran across his hands.  Shaking himself angrily out of his daze, Draco stood again.

            'It's no good thinking on what you shouldn't have done.  You did it, and it's too late to change things, _Malfoy_.'  Draco paced across the floor, stopping when he stood in front of the mirror hanging on the wall.  He slowly walked forwards until he was less than a foot away from it, closely examining his reflection.  In his face, he saw his mother- her pale complexion, her fair hair- but in his eyes, he saw his father.  The same hatred for everyone, the same disdain for the world...the same _evil_.  

            "Yes, it's too late to change things, Malfoy... and that's all you are...a MALFOY!"  Completely enraged, Draco smashed his fists against the mirror, shattering the glass in one blow.  Some glass refused to fall, and his reflection remained, hanging tauntingly before him.  "Get out!" he screamed, clawing at the glass with his bare hands.  "Get OUT!"

            "Draco?"

            At the sound of the voice, Draco spun around in terror.  Someone had seen his loss of control.  For once in his life, someone would know what was truly inside him...that Draco Malfoy had _feelings_.  "Who's there?!"

            There was a long pause.  Then, slowly, a figure stepped out of the shadows.  A man, short in stature, shorter than Draco, who already stood a good five feet nine inches tall.  A pudgy, balding man with a slightly pointed face...a man Draco had known of for most of his life, but only seen a few times.  Peter Pettigrew.

            "Draco," Peter began.  Draco turned his back on the man, furious that Peter had seen him lose control of his emotions.

            "What do you want, Pettigrew?" he demanded coldly.  Peter coughed softly.

            "Your father requires your presence back at your home, Draco."

            "Home?" Draco echoed absentmindedly.  'Whatever he calls it, that place is no home.'

            "Er...yes.  The time has come for your Death Eater initiation.  The other Death Eaters await you...as does the Dark Lord."

            At Pettigrew's words, Draco started in shock.  He whirled around to face Pettigrew.  "The Dark...Voldemort, at our house?"  

            Peter nodded.  "Here, take this!"  He pulled a small photo out of his pocket and tried to hand it to Draco.  Draco examined it cautiously, making sure not to touch it.  It was a photo of his mother.  Seeing no other reason for Peter to be offering him this, he came to the only conclusion he could.

            "Portkey?" he asked, gray eyes flickering back up to look at Peter carefully.  The man nodded.

            "Of course.  Now take a hold and we'll be on our way."

            Draco was about to refuse before he thought better of it.  'If he really is taking me to my house, and Voldemort is truly there, then they're probably going to do something to Harry.  Maybe if I go, I can get to him before Voldemort can, and somehow make up for my mistake.'  Out loud, he made no response.  He simply nodded and gingerly took a hold of the photo, grimacing at it.  His mother wasn't smiling in it.  'Well, that's nothing out of the ordinary.'  

            "Okay.... Nine fifty-nine.... one more minute to go...." Peter said, glancing at his watch.  "Then we'll be on our way."

            Draco turned and glanced over his shoulder at the desk clock.  The glowing green numbers changed to 10:00.  He felt the oh-so-familiar tug behind his navel, as the dorm room swirled around him and everything faded to black.  'You better appreciate what I'm doing for you, Potter.'

TO BE CONTINUED................. 

A/n: 

**Nuwanda**:  DRACO!ANGST!!!!!!!!!!!  DRACO!ANNNNNNNGSSSSSSSST!!!!!!!!!!!

DEAR GOD I AM SO OBSESSED WITH DRACO ANNNNNNNGSSSSSSST!!!!!!  What the Scot has happened to me?!?!?!  I'm pathetically obsessed w/ angst now!  AHHHHHHHH!  *claws at her face*  QUILLOW, YOU FREAK!  YOU'RE RUBBING OFF ON ME TOO SCOTING MUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCH!!!!!

**Quillow**: Ah yes, I guess I am…  I don't think that Harry!Angst was evenly distributed in this.  I mean Draco got to have a breakdown at the end.  I want to write a Harry!Breakdown for next chapter… hehe…

**Quote of the chapter** (from random HP discussions we had while writing the chapter) this is from Quillow on how out of hand Tom Riddle ships are getting:  "If it's Tom/Voldemort would that be considered masturbation?"

R/R please? Anything? Throw us a bone! Constructive Criticism! sigh we only got 1 review last time, hopefully it was because ff.n was being screwy and not because this story entirely sucks!  Meh!


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Disengage

Summary: Part three in the installment, please see previous chapters.

Disclaimer: Oh hail art thou JK Rowling et al who own Harry Potter.  Do not sue us for we have meager earnings and want to make it to college without a criminal record.

Rating: R for language and general ickiness that occurs

A/N: at the end

Chapter 3

September 2nd

            "Catch, Potter!" Harry looked up quickly, just in time to see Draco toss him a foil.  On instinct, he reached up and clasped his hand around it.  Almost instantly he felt the world fade around him, and a familiar tug at his navel.  Immediately fear washed over him.  He didn't even have time to think.  He only had time to feel, and he felt raw fear take over his soul.  

            Suddenly Harry felt his feet slam into the ground, and he fell to his knees.  _Where are we… _ the fear gripped his heart, it was happening all over again. _Did anyone tell you the cup was a portkey…nope… _the whole situation was completely surreal. _I dunno, wands out d'you reckon…_ he stood up and fumbled, looking for his wand. _Someone's coming…_his scar began to twinge._ Kill the spare…Avada…Kedavra…_now was not the time to panic.

            He felt himself roughly hauled to his feet by a pair of strong hands.  "Good evening, Mr. Potter," a voice drawled.  The hands harshly shook Harry, and Harry opened his eyes, not even aware they had been tightly shut.  He was greeted with the sight of Lucius Malfoy's sour visage.  Lucius cocked an eyebrow as if to challenge Harry.  Harry just stared into his eyes.  Lucius cast him to the ground, "Get his wand, tie him up," he commanded.  Two others appeared from the shadow of the room, and brusquely began to search for Harry's wand. 

            Harry was vaguely aware of what was going on around him.  He felt cold, and his scar hurt, but other than that, nothing for him was anchored in reality.  It didn't make sense: the foil… a portkey?  Was this going to be like last time? Last time Cedric died, was he the one who would die this time?  The two men began to take off his half jacket.  Harry's mind was put into overdrive.  He was in danger.  He needed to get out of danger.  Harry became more aware of his surroundings as he broke from his stupor.  This would not end like last time. 

            "What the hell is wrong with him," sneered one of the men.

            "Why is he so complacent?" asked the other.

            "He is broken," Lucius said, Harry could hear the glee in his voice.

            They were mistaken though.  He most certainly was not complacent.  He most certainly was not broken, and would never be broken by the likes of these men.

            He began to flail wildly: kicking his legs, punching with his arms.  The two struggled to hold him down.  Harry felt his foot connect with the flesh of one man's arm, his hand punched another man's face.  He was not going to go down without a fight.  Both of the men put their hands up to cover their faces.  

"What are you fools doing? Hold him down, imbeciles!" Lucius directed.  Harry just acted on animal instinct, he was in danger, and he needed to be out of danger.  He stood up and tried to make a break for it out of the room, and into the unknown.  He felt one of the men grab his ankle. He felt himself begin to lose his balance.

"For pity's sake, Lucius, what is going on?"

"Master," Lucius bowed his head and genuflected.

Harry's scar burst with renewed pain, as he fell to the ground.  This wasn't simply death eater revenge.  This was Voldemort's revenge.  His fears were completely realized.  The two men held Harry to the ground.  

"Nott…Goyle… are you completely incompetent?" hissed Voldemort, "Tie up his arms… behind his back." 

Harry's hands were violently pulled behind his back, and bound together.  

"Now then, on your feet, Potter!" Voldemort demanded.

Nott and Goyle sniggered as Harry struggled to his feet, not able to use his hands to boost him up.

"What are you planning to do?" Harry asked, looking into Voldemort's eyes, ignoring the growing pain in his scar.  "Planning to finish me off?  You think that fourth time's the charm? Well, let's get it over with, let it be fair, let us duel."

"Tut, tut, tut, Harry, I do believe you are outnumbered.  I would watch what you say."  He began to approach Harry, "Hold his arms!" 

Nott and Goyle grabbed Harry's arms as Voldemort stood face to face with Harry.  "I do think that," he reached into Harry's side pocket and grabbed Harry's wand, "I will be taking this."  

"That is not fair, at least let the fight be fair!"

"Who said this was going to be fair?" Voldemort grabbed Harry's neck, "Now you listen to me Harry, we are not playing by your rules.  We are not playing by the wizarding code of conduct.  We are playing by my rules.  And if you do not follow my rules, it will be most unpleasant."

Harry felt nothing but rage and anger.  Voldemort had already cost him so much in his life.  The threats to Harry didn't scare him all he felt was fury. "Fuck… you…"

Voldemort snorted, "I did warn you."  He held Harry's head between his hands and began to bring his face closer to Harry.  Harry didn't even have a second to register what was happening.  Abruptly, Voldemort's lips brushed Harry's scar.  _Have mercy…have mercy… not Harry… AVADA KEDAVRA…a woman's scream… his mother's scream… intense pain… crashing over him…coursing through his veins… was this what she felt?… was this what my mother felt in the last moment's of her life? _Harry felt himself sink to his knees.  Voldemort continued to hold him.  Harry was vaguely aware that Voldemort was coming closer again, and he weakly tried to pull away.

Voldemort smirked as he brought his mouth to Harry's ear, "Crucio!" 

            Pain engulfed his entire body.  His bones burned, his blood pumped through his veins like poison, his scar felt like it was splitting, and he felt himself falling.  He was falling and falling and falling, with only the abyss of unconsciousness to claim him.

***

"Oh, dear.  The Weasley twins are taunting the giant squid again."  Dumbledore sighed, staring out the window towards the lake.  Fawkes ruffled his feathers in response.  Dumbledore turned back to the giant crimson bird.  "You're looking a bit peaked today.  A little bit…burned out?"  Dumbledore chuckled to himself at his joke; Fawkes rolled his eyes.

            Out of the blue, the fire began spitting and crackling very strangely.  Dumbledore turned and regarded it in a politely puzzled way.  A split second later, Sirius and Snape tumbled out of the fireplace.  Dumbledore smiled pleasantly. 

            "Ah!  Severus!  Sirius!  Evening tea already?  I completely lost track of time!"  Dumbledore gave a slight wave of his wand and a tea set appeared on the desk, the teapot hovering in the air in front of him.  Turning, he began to pour the tea.  If he had been looking through the window still, he would have seen the squid, finally pushed past it's limit, grabbing hold of the Weasley twins in exasperation and tossing them about.

            "No, Headmaster, it is not time for evening tea!" Snape cut it.

            "No?" Dumbledore set down the teapot, turning back to look at Snape with a very morose expression.  

            "NO!"  Snape took a deep breath.  "There has been an…incident."

            Dumbledore looked from one man to the other and noticed the serious expressions on their faces.  "Go on."

            "Well…it's involving two students…at the fencing club."

            "Let me guess, Severus…Potter and Malfoy?"

            "Yes."

            Dumbledore sighed.  "What happened?"

            "Well, we're still not entirely sure, Headmaster…" Snape began, but then the still panicking Sirius interrupted.

            "Harry's foil broke-"

            "The two boys were giving a demonstration," Snape interjected.

            "Draco threw him one-"

            "Malfoy threw him a foil when his-"

            "And then Harry grabbed it and…and…AND…"

            "WILL YOU CALM DOWN?!?!" Snape roared.  "As I was saying," he continued, glaring at Sirius, "Potter and Malfoy were demonstrating and Potter's foil broke.  Malfoy tossed him another one, and when Potter caught it…he disappeared.  We think it was a portkey."

            "Oh, dear.  Where is Mr. Malfoy now?"

            "In his Dormitory.  Locked up.  Waiting for you to talk to him."

            "Well, let us go and speak to him."

***

              The colors swirled around Draco, a fusion of light and sound in the few seconds it took the portkey to transport he and Pettigrew.  In Draco's mind, the trip wasn't long enough.  Seconds later, he and Pettigrew were tossed out onto the floor, landing hard.  Peter fell to his knees, but Draco remained standing, barely ruffled as he coolly surveyed the room.  The portkey had taken them to the drawing room of Malfoy manner, oh-so-familiar in Draco's mind.  Involuntarily, Draco's right hand clenched as if with remembered pain, and he felt his stomach turn at the memories that would still flood back to him every time he entered this room.  Swallowing hard, he shoved the annoying thoughts further down inside of him, leaving only a nervous wrenching in the pit of his stomach.

"Ah, Draco."  

Draco paused a moment before turning slowly around to face his father.  Lucius Malfoy smiled at his son.  "How nice to have you home, Draco."  Draco laughed derisively.  Lucius' smile became a bit fixed.

"Careful, boy," Lucius said softly, the dangerous tone in his voice all-too-familiar to Draco.  "I brought you back for an important matter...for Salazar's sake, what happened to your hands?"

Surprised, Draco glanced down at his hands and did a double take.  His normally alabaster skin was crimson with blood flowing from the numerous cuts on his hands.  He had completely forgotten the mirror...

"Ah...nothing- I mean, I don't know." Draco responded, shrugging noncommittally.  Lucius' eyes narrowed.

"Don't know, eh?" he echoed.  "I'm sure.  Anyway, it matters not.  Just make sure you don't bleed on my floor."  

Draco felt the anger rising again at his father's words.  'He doesn't give a damn about me.'  Out loud, he echoed after his father's words.  "Oh no, Sir, I won't bleed on the floor."  He lowered his voice, speaking under his breath as his father left the room.  "Won't bleed on your precious floor.  You and your fucking possessions-"

"Draco!"

Guiltily, Draco swung around.  His mother stood behind him in the open doorway, framed against the stormy night sky.  A silver velvet cape hung about her shoulders, weighed down with water and dragging slightly on the floor behind her.  Her silver blond hair, so much like Draco's, hung loose to her waist, wild with the wind and dripping with rain.  Her grey-blue eyes were reproachful as she stared at her son.

"Mother," Draco said simply.  He stepped forwards, holding his arms out gently.

"Draco!"  Narcissa laughed, stepping forward to meet her son, taking him gently in her arms.  "You've grown so much!" she exclaimed softly.  Draco smiled.  Draco's mother tipped her face and kissed him twice on each cheek, laughing as she did so.  Draco unconsciously tightened his hold on his mother.  'I could hold you like this forever...' he thought silently.  '...If you would only let me.'

            "Draco!  What's gotten into you?" Narcissa exclaimed, laughing.  Draco merely pulled her tighter.

            "Nothing, mother," he whispered into her hair, "I just missed you."

            "I missed you too," she answered softly.  Her voice caught in her throat, unnoticed by Draco.  Gently, she pulled away from Draco, who unwillingly relinquished his hold on her.  As he went to move away, Narcissa caught sight of his hands and caught them in her own  "Oh, my..." She looked up at her son with fear in her eyes.  "Draco...what...what happened to your hands?"

            "Noth-"

            "Nothing, Nothing."  The cold, drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy interrupted whatever lie Draco was about to make.  He walked towards them slowly, arms open as though to embrace them both. At the sound of her husband's voice, Narcissa stiffened and her eyes glassed over.  "Draco has already told me that there is no cause for alarm, my dearest."  Lucius rested his hand on his wife's shoulder.  At the first touch of her husband, Narcissa flinched.  Lucius tightened his hold on his wife's shoulder, squeezing hard.  Narcissa uttered not a sound, but her eyes shut as to conceal her pain.

            "Stop it!"  The words burst from Draco's lips before he had any chance of controlling them.  Narcissa's eyes flew open and she stared in terror at Draco.  Lucius' hand relaxed almost immediately; his gaze turned to his son.

            "Stop it?" he echoed, relinquishing his hold on his wife as he stepped towards his son.  Draco almost wished he hadn't said anything at all- almost.

            "Yes," he shot back, swallowing hard at the fear he had tried to squash down which was now resurfacing.  "Stop it.  Leave her alone."  Draco unconsciously gripped his right wrist; his ribs began to throb as if with remembered pain.  His actions did not go unnoticed by his father.  Lucius smiled, enjoying his son's torment.

            "Narcissa...would you please leave the room, dearest?"

            "Whatever for?" Narcissa attempted to sound casual, but her voice trembled with hidden fear.  Lucius smiled at her.

            "Nothing to worry about.  I just have some things to discuss with Draco about the upcoming events."  At the mention of the "upcoming events," Narcissa stiffened, her face white.  She forced a small smile and nodded rigidly.

            "As you wish."  Giving one last small, forced smile to her son, Narcissa left the room, silver cape dragging behind her.  Watching her go, Draco felt the imaginary pain in his limbs grow even more as he found himself alone with his father.  Lucius quickly noticed his son's discomfort.

            "Yes, boy, you remember," he hissed.  "You remember quite well what happened the last time you dared to stand up to me."  He walked towards his son, closing the gap between them.  Draco stood his ground.  'I won't run from him.'  

            Very close to Draco now, Lucius spoke very softly, his words seething with hatred.  "No son of mine gets away with telling me what to do."  With that, Lucius reached up and backhanded his son across the face.  The force of the blow knocked Draco backward into the wall.  Slowly, Draco slid to the floor, refusing to allow the pain show on his face, glaring at his father.  Lucius stood before him, his breathing heavy with his anger.   "No son of mine gets away with this sniveling, over-emotional mentality," he hissed through labored breaths.  "No son of mine would do to himself what you have done.  No son of mine would try to-" Lucius broke off.  

Draco glared up at his father, familiar pain twinging in his body, hands at his sides.  He refused to touch the mark he knew must already be rising up on his face; he refused to let his hands go to his aching wrist.  He sat on the floor before his father, one knee pulled up, the other leg stretched out, hands by his sides, allowing his blood to drip on the floor, ignoring the throbbing on his cheek.  He simply scowled up at his father, no expression on his face other than in his eyes, which flashed with barely leashed-in lightening, like the calm before a storm.

            Lucius glared down at his son.  "Get up," he seethed, voice full of disgust.  "Get up and get yourself decent.  The others will be here soon, and they'll want to see you, though why they do I will _never_ understand."  Lucius reached out and grabbed Draco's collar, pulling the boy's face close to his.  "You better not disgrace me, boy.  If you do, you won't need to resort to your own means again.  I'll do the job myself."  Lucius gave Draco a look that showed that he meant it and tossed the boy to the floor, leaving the room.  

            Draco stared after his father, face still expressionless.  'If only I could be sure that you were being truthful,' he thought silently, 'You think I care if you follow through?  Please do.  I've been wishing for it for years...'

            In the small room adjacent to the drawing room, the crimson curtains that stood in place of a door twitched slightly.  A faced peeped out from behind them, long blonde hair obstructing the person's view.  Narcissa pushed her hair out of her face, azure eyes filled with pain as she watched her husband leave, as she watched her son's torment.  

            "Draco..."  

            Draco looked up.  Narcissa was staring at him, eyes wide with fear and brimming over with iridescent, opal-like tears.  He rose to his feet to face her.  "Mother." 

            "Oh, Draco..." Narcissa pulled her son close, one hand gently stroking his head in an effort to comfort or calm him. Draco forced a small laugh.

            "I'm fine, mum," he said, trying to sound it.  Narcissa immediately burst into silent, strangled sobs...sobs she did her best to hide, and indeed, to most people they would have gone unnoticed.  Draco, however, could sense his mother's pain.  No matter how hard she tried to put on a facade, Draco knew when she was hurting.  He fought hard to keep down his own tears at the pain he could sense through every sob that wracked her frail body.  "It's okay, Mother.... He's gone now."  His words soothed her sobs somewhat; when Narcissa realized that Draco knew that she was crying, she stifled her weeping.  Draco gently rubbed her back, trying to soothe away the last of his mother's tears.  "Shhhh....it's all right.  I'm here, mum."  Draco watched in silence as the blood from his hands dripped slowly and silently into his mother's cape, turning the silver velvet crimson.  'Finish it, Father.  Finish what I began four years ago.'

***

September 2nd

Evening Falls    

As they made their way down the stairs, Snape eyed the Headmaster curiously.  The last time he had seen Dumbledore so angry had been after the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, when Barty Crouch had taken Harry away against Dumbledore's express orders.  The twinkle was gone from Dumbledore's eye; he looked positively dangerous.

            "And you're sure you locked off **_all _**of the fireplaces?"  Dumbledore inquired fervently.

            "Yes, Headmaster," Snape answered quickly, "The entire school is on lockdown."

            They reached the door.  "Allow me, Headmaster," Snape said, pushing his way to the front of the three.  Standing directly in front of the door, he muttered some words under his breath and gave a quick flourish of his wand.  "And now all we need is the password," Snape mumbled, seeming reluctant to say the word aloud.  He cleared his throat.  "Atticus Abracadabra!"

            The door slid open and Snape rushed in, leaving Sirius staring after him in confusion at the password before following him in.  Most of the students were still in the common room.  The three professors ignored the students as they swept on through and up the stairs towards the fifth year dormitories.  The fifth year boys were all crowded outside the room, Crabbe and Goyle banging their meaty fists on the door.

            "Draco!" Crabbe railed.  "C'mon!  Let us in!"

            "OUT OF OUR WAY!" Snape roared, brushing at the students, black robes making him look like a huge overgrown bat.  Terrified, the students scattered.  Snape spoke another incantation and the door swung open, revealing...

            "Draco?"  Snape stepped into the room, closely followed by Dumbledore and Sirius.  

            "He's not here" Sirius stated bluntly.  Snape glared at him.

            "I am **_aware_** of that, Black!"

            "Well he's _your _obnoxious little student!  Can't you even handle a simple fire lockdown?!"

            "Watch yourself, Black," Snape growled

            Dumbledore knelt on the floor, closely examining something.  "Come now," he said, slightly annoyed.  He stood up and turned to face the two men.  "Something has clearly happened to young Mister Malfoy."  With that, he held up a piece of the object he had been examining: a shard of a broken, bloody mirror.

TBC 

****

Author's note: 

Quillow:  We are amazing.

Nuwanda:  Well, we've had a year to write this chapter, so it had better be pretty darn amazing…you people better like it!

Quillow: Umm this is a little bit AU now… Sirius!!! blubbers from the corner of the room…. Ahhhh

Nuwanda:  Hey, I love Sirius more than you!  You still have your Lupin!  Sobs as well, if not more pathetically

Quillow: If you were wondering, I'm the one who does the Harry angst… mm yes… 

Nuwanda:  And I write the Draco angst…mm, Draco is better.  hides from the wrath of Quillow

Quillow: well, Harry angst is my ANGST.  So if you want more ANGST you can read my new OotP Fanfic, Shards, also here at the Dark Arts… MUAHAHAHAHA.

Nuwanda:  Good God…

Quillow: Read and review please, and hopefully we will show up more than once a year with a new chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Meh.  Here you go.  This one is written only by me, Nuwanda, because as we stated previously, I'm in charge of the Draco angst, Quillow does the Harry angst, and this chapter is primarily Draco angst.  So yeah.  Enjoy.

Disclaimer:  We own nothing.  Seriously.  If we owned any part of Harry Potter, Quillow would be beating up Harry right and left and I would be making Harry and Draco snog all the time, so there you have it.  We own nothing.

Claimer:  Ooh yeah.  Nothing except the haughty ghost servant.  He's of my creation.  I like him.  ;D

Author's Note to follow.

~*~  

Draco stood in front of the mirror in his room, studying himself in his mirror.  His father had insisted that he dress up for the occasion.  He sighed.  He still wasn't entirely sure what was going to happen this night. 

There was a light knock on the door.  Draco ignored it.  The door opened slowly and his mother poked her head in.  "Draco?"

"Mum!"  Draco was surprised.   He immediately felt embarrassed.  He had not yet gotten dressed.  He hadn't dealt very well with the cuts on his hands.  While he had bound his hands, he had still done a very incompetent job of it.  Therefore, he was still mainly undressed, not wanting to get blood on his good clothes.  'Father would _kill _me.'  "_MUM_!"  This was said with much more urgency as he searched desperately for something to hide his practically naked state.  "Mum, I've got no clothes on!"  His eyes settled on his bed and he grabbed a blanket, wrenching it off the bed and bleeding all over it as he attempted to cover himself.  His mother laughed.

"Draco, it's not like I've never seen you like this before," she said, trying to stifle her giggles.  "I did clothe you as a baby, you know."

"That's _different_!"  Draco wrapped the blanket still tighter about him.  Narcissa hid the last of her laughter behind one hand.  

"I'm sorry," she managed to say calmly.  "I just came to see if you could use some help healing those hands of yours."

"I don't want them healed," he said abruptly.

"Draco-"

"NO!"  Draco shook his head stubbornly.  "That's what he would want.  He wants me to present a good showing downstairs, to look like the perfect son."  Draco laughed bitterly and clenched his fists, eyes shutting tightly at the pain that action caused him.  Taking a deep breath, Draco opened his eyes, staring at the floor.  "I won't give him the satisfaction."

Narcissa stared at her son.  "Draco may I please-"

"_NO_!"  Narcissa flinched; Draco sighed.  "No, mum, I'm sorry.  I just don't want to give in to him.  I know I sound stupid and stubborn, but any way I can make this harder for him…any way that I can make it harder for him to pretend he has the perfect family…I will.  Even if it makes him hate me even more."

There was a pause.  "It may make him _hurt _you even more."  Narcissa's voice was soft and full of fear and worry.  Draco looked her in the eye and smiled.

"I can deal with it."  Narcissa still looked unsure.  "Come on, mum."  Draco put on his signature smirk with all the bravado he could muster, trying as hard as he could to make his mother smile.  "You know I'm tough.  I can handle it."  

Narcissa gave a small forced laugh.  Draco stepped closer to her.  "I'll be alright, mum.  Don't worry."  Keeping one hand on the blanket to hold it up, Draco reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair out of his mother's eyes, being extremely careful not to drip blood on her.  Narcissa smiled at him.

"Well, may I at least bandage those hands for you?" she asked.

Draco held up his hands, forgetting that they were all that were covering up his half clothed state by holding up the blanket.  The blanket immediately fell, revealing his pale green boxers to the room.  His eyes widened in horror and he grabbed for the blanket.  "_MA_!"

"I'm not _looking_, Draco!"  

He looked up; it was true.  His mother had apparently shut her eyes to keep from embarrassing him.  "Oh."  He coughed, tying the blanket more securely about his waist.  "It's okay, mum.  I'm decent now."

She opened her eyes and he finished what he had started, confidant now that the blanket was securely tied about his waist.  He held his hands up for her to see.  "I started to wrap them," Draco said, "but it didn't work so well."  Both hands were bandaged very haphazardly, wrapped not even half as much as they should have been.  The bandages he used were thin; the blood dripped steadily through them.  His mother sighed.  Draco should have been able to do this well enough on his own, considering the fact that he was ambidextrous and that he had been doing similar things on his own since he was very young.  Draco shrugged unapologetic shoulders as if to say 'what are you going to do?'  

Narcissa sat on the edge of the bed and motioned to Draco.  "Come here."

Smiling, Draco sat down besides her, hitching up the blanket as he did.  He held out his hands and she undid the bandages, rolling her eyes at the slapdash job he had done.  Narcissa vanished the bloody bandages and summoned up fresh clean ones and a small cloth.  She gently wiped the blood from his hands and carefully bandaged them one at a time, sensibly bandaging his fingers separately so that he could still have full use of his hands.  

"There," she said, "finished."  

Draco held his hands up and wiggled all of his fingers experimentally.  He could move all of them nearly as well as if they weren't bandaged at all.  He smiled at his mother.  "Thanks mum."  He gave her a tight hug now that he was sure he wouldn't bleed on her.

"You're welcome," she laughed, hugging him back.

"Draco."

Narcissa jumped at the sound of the voice.  Draco looked up and saw one of the ghost servants hovering next to the bed, looking incredibly bored and haughty…as haughty as a ghost could look, anyway.  

"Yeah, what is it?"

The ghost looked almost affronted at Draco's words and tone.  "Your father awaits your presence in the drawing room."  The ghost let his eyes sweep across Draco's state of undress and looked at the boy disdainfully.  "As soon as you can get yourself suitably _attired_, that is."  Turning his back, the ghost swept out of the room.

"You'd better go too, mum.  I've got to get 'suitably attired,'" Draco put on the snootiest voice he could.  Narcissa stifled her laughter; Draco sounded exactly like the haughty ghost.  

"Very well, Draco.  I trust that we will see you in a few minutes?"  Narcissa put on a snooty and overly dignified voice herself.

"INDEED, Madame Narcissa," Draco continued, sweeping as low of a bow as he could without dropping the blanket. 

"Well then I shall take my leave."  Narcissa fought back laughter; Draco was much better at keeping a straight face than she was.  Sweeping her deepest curtsy, his mother disapparated.  Draco then allowed himself to smile, shaking his head at his mother's obvious attempts to control her amusement.  He let the blanket slide to the floor and wiggled his fingers again.  Both hands were bound almost completely, the wrappings stopping at his knuckles, leaving his fingertips free.  Reaching into the closet, he pulled out an outfit that he knew his father wouldn't exactly _love_, but one that Lucius would at least approve of.  After dressing, Draco stared at himself in the mirror.  He was wearing gray dress slacks, not the nicest he owned but the most comfortable out of his nice dress pants.  The shirt he had on looked at first glance like a basic white dress shirt.  On a closer examination, it was quite old fashioned.  The sleeves billowed out until the wrists, which were tight and looked as though they should have ruffles on them.  They _should _have had ruffles on them; Draco had adamantly refused.  The clothes that Lucius would have preferred Draco to wear were all decked out in ruffles.  Draco eyed them and shook his head in disgust.  Looking back to the mirror he adjusted his collar and smiled.  'Not perfect, but it'll have to do.'  Draco pulled on his cleanest and least beat up robes and tucked his wand into his back pocket.  'Just in case…' 

Taking one last look in the mirror, Draco took a deep breath and slowly let it out.  "Well, here goes nothing."

~*~

            Draco came slowly down the stairs, hand sliding gently down the banister.  He paused on the last step, eyes sliding tightly shut.  'I don't want to do this.'

            'But you _have_ to,' another part of his mind reprimanded.  'You got bloody Potter into this mess; now you'd better bloody well get him _out _of it!'

            Taking a deep breath, Draco opened his eyes and took the final step into the hallway.

            "Draco!"

            Turning his head, Draco looked into the drawing room towards the sound of the voice.  A man with black hair and a thick mustache was walking through the crowds of Death Eaters.  Draco forced the widest smile he could manage onto his face.

            "Hello, Mr. Macnair," he said in the most friendly voice he could.  Macnair staggered towards him, laughing heartily.

            "No no, call me Macnair," he said in a booming voice.  "No need to stand on formality, Draco.  I've known you since you were just a little thing.  We go waaaaaaaay back, don't we?"  He shook Draco's hand vigorously and pounded the thin boy on the back in what was obviously supposed to be an amiable way, but practically knocked the boy over.  Draco wrinkled his nose up.  'Drunken bastard.'  Macnair had obviously had one too many…'or five too many.'

            "Yes.  Well."  Draco attempted to think of something polite to say and failed, so he didn't say anything polite.  "Slaughtered any innocent animals or people lately, Macnair?"

            Macnair struggled to focus his eyes on Draco.  'Yeah, he's really been tipping the bottle just a bit…riiight, just a bit.'  The man blinked dubiously at Draco and then began to laugh, slapping Draco on the back again.  "Yeah, yeah, innocent animals, gotcha."

            Not even trying to smile anymore, Draco firmly removed Macnair's hand from his back.  "Right.  Well.  I'd better go greet my father."  Turning on his heel, he walked away with no real purpose.  He had absolutely no intention of greeting his father…he had a few choice words he would very much like to "greet" his father with, but doubted that they would go over very well.  He scanned the room and spotted Crabbe and Goyle's fathers.  'Ah, no need to worry now,' he thought, even his thoughts dripping with sarcasm.  'The party will never lack witty puns with those two around.'  He continued to scan the room and didn't see any unfamiliar faces.  The room was full of Death Eaters.  When Draco was young, he had been inclined to hate all of them before meeting them for the simple reason that his father respected or liked almost all of them. However, as soon as he met them, he discovered that they were all even more disgusting than he had thought.  Any one of these people on their own was bad enough; get an entire room of them and there was enough treachery and malice in the air to make a Norwegian Ridgeback choke on its own disgust.   

            "Something wrong, Draco?"

            Turning, Draco came face to face with his father.  Making sure that his hatred and disgust for everyone in the room was fully apparent, he gave his father his best wide eyed sarcastic expression.  "Why, no," he said, sarcasm obvious in his voice, "You know how much I _love _your little parties!"

            Lucius' eyes narrowed.  "Careful boy," he said, lowering his voice so that no one but Draco would hear, "you had better not disgrace me tonight."

            Draco arched one eyebrow as if to say 'yeah, right,' and turned to go.  Lucius grabbed his son's arm and spun the boy to face him.

            "I'm serious," Lucius hissed.  "You will be presented to the Dark Lord tonight, and you had better present yourself well.  You will be representing me, and your every word," he clenched his hand tighter about his son's arm, fingers digging in to Draco's flesh, "your every movement, every blink of an _eye_…it all reflects me.  So you had better make a good impression."  Draco stared at his father, pokerfaced, no sign of the pain his father was causing him apparent.  Lucius released Draco, giving the boy a slight shove away from him as he released Draco's arm.

            Draco turned to go and nearly crashed head on into the ghost that had given him such attitude in his room earlier.  Though he managed to avoid a collision, Draco still managed to wreak havoc.  The ghost was carrying a tray of wine glasses.  Though Draco barely brushed the tray, he still sent the glasses teetering dangerously.  The ghost frantically sought to steady the glasses while Draco watched and smirked.  Turning, he saw his father staring at him, eyes wide and expression on the verge of a scowl.  An idea entered Draco's head.  He turned and looked at the tray, then slowly turned back and looked at his father.  Lucius' eyes widened even more and the scowl was now full blown.  Without breaking eye contact with his father, Draco reached towards the tray and took a glass of wine.  Smiling innocently at his father, he raised the glass in a sort of salute.  "Cheers."  Before Lucius could do a thing, Draco tossed the wine back and down his throat as if it were a shot of some cheap beer.  Quickly he reached out and grabbed another glass, setting the empty one back on the tray.

            Lucius grabbed his son's wrist.  "Oh, no you don't," he hissed.

            "Lucius, is there a problem?"

            Draco felt his father stop moving suddenly.  Glaring at his father, Draco wrenched his wrist out of Lucius' grasp and turned to face the voice.  Looking up, he came face to face with the visage that he had constructed so many times in his mind, the face that he had imagined so often, the person who he had dreamed so many times of meeting, yet whom he had hoped to never meet.

            Lord Voldemort stared down at the pale blonde boy in front of him and smiled.  "Hello, Draco.  Your father has told me so much about you.  I'm so glad to meet you at last."  With his smile making his eyes look like nothing more than slits, Voldemort extended a hand, obviously expecting Draco to kneel and kiss it.  There was a pause as Draco stared.

            "Thanks."  Instead of kneeling and bestowing a kiss, he shoved the wine glass into Voldemort's outstretched hand.  He felt his father's fury radiating towards him, felt the surprise coming from Voldemort.  Lucius put a hand on Draco's shoulder and shoved his son harshly to the floor, forcing Draco to kneel.

            "My apologies, my Lord," Lucius said hurriedly.  "He is somewhat rebellious."  Draco stared up at his father with wide, innocent eyes.  'Rebellious?  Who, me?'

            "Then you should have taught him _better_, Lucius."  The voice was calm enough, but the hidden reprimand was obvious. 

            "I try, my Lord.  I try to mend his behavior through multiple _beatings_."  Lucius' voice sounded strained.  Draco could tell that the word "beatings" was meant specifically for him; he had earned himself one large and painful beating for this little episode.

            "I like that," Voldemort said.  He looked down at Draco.  The boy could feel Voldemort's eyes on him, sending shivers up and down his spine.  He felt as though his skin were trying to crawl off his body.  He looked up and met Voldemort's eyes without a hint of the fear he felt. Voldemort regarded Draco very seriously. "Are you afraid of me, boy?"

            Draco paused.  "No."

            Voldemort threw back his head and laughed.  "Yes you are, boy.  I can feel your fear, smell it, taste it on my tongue like a fine wine.  But you've got guts, boy.  One would have to have guts to lie so blatantly to my face.  I respect that."  Draco stared at Voldemort.  Returning the gaze, Voldemort let the glass of wine slip through his fingers.  It crashed on the floor, spattering Draco with wine and bits of broken glass, but Draco never flinched, merely kept staring at Voldemort.  The Dark Lord regarded Draco pensively.  "You have spirit as well," he said softly.  "You are rebellious.  I like this boy, Lucius, I like him very much."

            "Thank you, my Lord," Lucius simpered.

            "I would advice you to carry on with the beatings," Voldemort continued.  "This boy is rebellious.  The more he is beat, the stronger he gets.  Beat him until he knows when to be rebellious and when to control himself.  He will make a strong servant one day."  Voldemort looked back to Draco.  Once more, he extended his hand.  Draco stared at it but made no move to take it.  Voldemort looked at Lucius out of the corner of his eye, the slightest movement.  Draco sensed that now was the time to obey.  'Obey now, gain his trust, you'll have more leniency later.'  Leaning forward, he took Voldemort's hand in his own.  He heard the Dark Lord make a small sound of satisfaction, happy that Draco was finally going to comply.  Bending forwards, Draco brought Voldemort's hand to his lips and gently kissed it.  As soon as his lips touched Voldemort's skin, Draco felt as if a bolt of ice cold lightening shot in through his mouth and straight to his head.  He fell forward immediately, hands clutching his head and fingers digging into his temples as though he could claw the feeling out.  Lord Voldemort watched as though this was of the utmost interest.  The lightening swirled through Draco's head and then moved on, shooting through his entire body.  After what seemed like a life age, the burning coldness settled in his right arm, dancing and swimming as though painting swirling patterns inside his skin.  Draco clutched his arm tightly, rocking back and forth slightly to control himself despite the pain.  Finally, it stopped.  Draco kept his head down as he struggled to steady his breathing.  When he was sure he had himself under control, he looked up.  

            Lord Voldemort was staring down at him, amusement curving at the corners of his lips.  Lucius looked slightly proud.  The other Deatheaters looked shocked, even impressed.  

            "What…what _was _that," Draco managed.

            "Why don't you check your arm," Voldemort answered, smile on his face.  

            Draco felt as though an icy cold hand had just clenched around his heart and stopped it from pumping.  Dreading what he knew he was about to do, what he knew he _had _to do, Draco stared down at the puffed sleeve of his shirt that hid his arm from view.  Slowly, he took hold of the soft white fabric and ripped it off, tearing it away from his arm.  Where before his arm had been all perfect skin, pale as alabaster, now it was marred by the single presence of one grotesque image:  the Dark Mark. 

            "That was most impressive, boy," Voldemort said.  "I have only once seen another servant take the Dark Mark as well as you have.  Most of my servants are quite…immature…about it."  Draco saw the other Deatheaters shift uncomfortably at Voldemort's words.  "The pain is intense, I have been told.  Yet you uttered not a sound."

            Draco was rather surprised at this.  The pain still lingered in his arm.  It shocked him to hear that he hadn't cried out at all.  'I guess that's something to be proud of,' he thought, 'I didn't give them the satisfaction of seeing me broken.'

            "I think that you will turn out to be as loyal as my other strong servant was before he died," Voldemort said.  "You may even surpass him…maybe you will someday surpass young Barty Crouch."

            Draco realized that he should probably feel proud that he had handled this so well, proud that he had impressed the Dark Lord.  He was rather happy to realize that the information did nothing for him at all, except make him disgusted to be compared to Barty Crouch.  He also realized that his father had looked almost proud of him.  'God, if that's what it takes for him to accept me then I'm glad I gave up on wanting his approval when I was four.'

            Voldemort and Lucius looked at each other.  "Well, Lucius, if you're ready."

            "We are ready whenever you are, my Lord."

            Draco suddenly felt incredibly tired.  "Where are we going?"

            "There is just one more part to your initiation."

            "_What_?!"

            Voldemort gave Draco a wide-eyed look of his own.  "Surely you did not think it was all _that_ easy!  You must _prove _your loyalty.  My servants each have a task when they are first initiated.  The completion of the task will prove if a servant is truly loyal to me. You must now complete your task."

            Draco sighed.  "What do I have to do?"

            Lucius smiled.  It wasn't a pleasant smile.  "We have a little friend of yours here, Draco…a "chum" from school."

            Draco felt as though the icy hand on his heart was now pumping it, sending his heart pounding nervously through his chest.  'They've got Potter!'  "Oh," he managed, "who?"

            "You shall see."  Lucius grabbed Draco's collar and hauled him to his feet.  "Come."

            Moments later, Draco found himself in the same room he and his father practiced fencing in: the huge ebony marble chamber he had been in not so long before the start of school.  He looked at his father, who looked like the proverbial cat who had swallowed the canary, then scanned the crowd of Death Eaters.  Voldemort stepped in front of him, hands behind his back as he examined Draco.

            "Well then…"  He snapped his fingers.  "Accio!"  Draco's wand flew out of his back pocket and into Voldemort's fingers.  Too late, Draco made a grab for it.  Voldemort smiled, waving a finger in Draco's face.  "Tsk tsk, Draco!  Why this secrecy?"  He flicked his fingers slightly and the wand flew over to Lucius, who tucked it away.  

            Draco stared at Voldemort with a look that wasn't exactly a glare but wasn't very friendly either.  "My wand," he stated. "Why?"

            "You won't be needing it."  

            Undaunted, Draco thrust his hand forwards.  "My _wand_," he insisted.  "I want it back."

            Voldemort laughed.  "You do have spirit, I will give you that," he said, "but I will not give you your wand.  You don't need it now."  His eyes flicked down and fastened on Draco's outstretched hand.  "What happened to your hands?"

            Draco remembered the bandages then.  He didn't try to hide his hands; he hoped that they would get Voldemort mad at his father again, or maybe convince him to doubt Draco's sanity.  "Nothing," he said.

            Voldemort looked at Lucius.  "One of your beatings, Lucius?"

            "Nope," Draco said, before Lucius could speak a word, "it just kinda happened."

            Voldemort stared at Draco.  "Very well.  If you don't want to tell me then you don't have to…it will only cause you more pain."

            "…pain," Draco echoed, confused.  Voldemort smiled, and then his eyes focused on something behind Draco's back.  Draco felt a deep sense of dread.  Slowly, he turned and felt as though he had been punched in the gut.

            Standing in front of him were two Death Eaters, both grinning fit to split their faces in two.  Stretched in between them like a fish caught by two cats was Harry Potter.  The boy was obviously severely emotionally battered as well as physically.  His eyes weren't focusing well, his glasses were broken, there were bruises on what Draco could see of his body, and he looked as though his mind had departed for parts unknown.

            'Christ,' Draco thought, staring at the bruised and broken form of Harry Potter, 'I am in really deep shit.'

~tbc~

Nuwanda:  Meh.  I don't like doing this without my beloved Quillow here, so this'll be short and sweet.  Here's your chapter.  *tosses cookies to the nice people*  Now REVIEW!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:**  Yeah, Nuwanda here.  Once again, this chapter is entirely my doing, seeing as it is once again Draco angst and that's my domain.  I had fun writing this one, b/c I got to do a little bit of Harry torture as well.  ;D  *siiiiiiiiiiigh*  The only problem is that after this, I owe Quillow soooo much Harry angst.  She's going to go nuts writing it, lol.

**Disclaimer:**  We are poor.  Poor as hobos.  My job pays nearly nothing and Quillow is trying to find a job.  Therefore, since we have crappy jobs and are so poor, you should understand that we own nothing.  Because if we did, we'd both be filthy rich.  Thank you for rubbing it in.

Author's note to follow.

~*~

Draco stared at Harry's broken body. 'What can I do to save him?' he thought wildly.  Realization hit him hard.  'Nothing,' he realized.  'There is nothing I can do that will have any result other than that I am killed with him.  That's all I can do: die with him to make up for my stupidity.'  It was not an option that pleased Draco very much.

            "I assume you realize what is going to happen here, Draco," Voldemort said, the smile apparent in his voice before Draco saw it on his face.  "I finally have Harry Potter within my power.  I can do with him what I like."

            "Yes," Draco agreed.  "You can.  So where do I come in?"

            Voldemort seemed disappointed that Draco didn't seem to share his love of torturing Potter.  "Don't you hate him, Draco?  Don't you want to _hurt _Potter…to see him suffer?"

            Draco felt his throat go dry.  "What must I do?" he asked hoarsely.  

            Voldemort smiled.  "That's better.  You are going to have a go at breaking Potter."

            "You want _me _to use the Unforgivable Curses?!"  

            "No no _no_, not at all," Voldemort said, irritated.  "You will break him physically, with no use of anything other than your own brute strength."  He smiled.  "No wands, no weapons, _nothing_."

            Draco was stunned and appalled.  He gave Harry a once-over, looking Harry over from head to toe.  While the two boys were normally matched quite well, Harry was in no state to fight anyone.  It would be an easy battle, and Harry would go down quickly.  

            "It should not take very long," Voldemort said, filling in the awkward silence.  Draco said nothing, just looked at the Dark Lord, face blank.  "Well?  You _will _do it?"  The question was not really a question at all, more of a statement.  Draco very much wanted at that moment to perform all three of the Unforgivable Curses at once…on Voldemort.  'Or maybe on myself,' he thought, 'anything to get me out of this situation!'  He didn't reply aloud, merely nodded his head.  Voldemort smiled.  "I am glad.  I was worried that your father was going to be forced to beat you instead of you beating Potter."  The Dark Lord seated himself in an intricate high-backed chair that had been placed in the room for this very occasion.  The Death Eaters all seated themselves in other chairs, Lucius giving Draco a very meaningful stare: 'don't mess up.' That was what the stare said. 

            Taking a deep breath, Draco stepped towards Harry.  Immediately, fire seemed to spring up from the floor, and it formed a circle of flames around the two boys.  Harry attempted to focus his eyes on Draco.  When he achieved this feat, his eyes narrowed in anger as he realized what was obviously about to happen.  Draco stepped in very close to Harry, who attempted to back away and nearly lost his balance.  Reaching out quickly, Draco caught Harry and placed one hand on either side of Harry's face. 

            "Harry," he whispered, "I am _so sorry._"  Before Harry could react, Draco punched the brunette in the face, knocking Harry off balance again.  Draco gasped aloud, freezing in place.  He had completely forgotten about his hands.  'So this is what Voldemort meant about pain…'  The instant he had hit Harry, intense pain had flooded through his hands.  He looked down and saw that they had started bleeding again.  Before he could look up, Draco felt something connect hard with his gut and he doubled over in pain.  Looking up, he saw Harry coming towards him again, reaching for another punch.  He felt momentarily impressed with Harry for continuing to fight even though he was in no fit state to do so.  Draco ducked under Harry's arm and kicked out, knocking Harry's legs out from under him.  'The less I have to actually hit him, the better.'  Harry scrambled to his feet, crawling after Draco on his hands and knees.  Just before he reached Draco, Harry pushed hard off his feet and hurled himself at Draco, diving on top of the blond boy and knocking Draco to the floor.  Harry crawled on top of Draco and hit him again.    Draco grabbed one of Harry's hands and used the other boy's distraction to punch Harry in the gut.  As Harry doubled over in pain, Draco shoved Harry off of him.  Harry slid a few feet away on his side, for the moment too disoriented to do anything else.  Draco winced; his hands were aching something terrible.  Suddenly, he had an idea.  He slid on his knees over to where Harry was and straddled Harry's chest, positioning his body in such a way that he slightly blocked he and Harry from the Death Eaters' view.  Instead of punching Harry, Draco pounded his fist harshly into the floor, biting down on his lip to keep from crying out at the horrific throbbing that enveloped his entire hand.  He punched the floor so many times he lost count.  He punched the floor as hard as he could, punching over and over, letting out all the anger and hatred he felt for his father and Voldemort and the Death Eaters.   He pounded his fists into the hard marble floor until he thought he would pass out from the pain.  Breathing heavily, Draco grabbed Harry's hair and held tight so that it looked as if he were really wrenching Harry's head back.   He leaned forwards, his mouth close to Harry's ear.  "Pretend to be unconscious and do not let on for an _instant _that I didn't actually hit you."  He released Harry's hair, dropping the practically unconscious boy's head back to the floor.  Draco placed one hand on either side of Harry and pushed himself up, ignoring the pain.  Standing, he turned and faced the crowd of watching Death Eaters.  Voldemort had a crazed smile on his face.  Draco felt chills down his back as he observed for himself just how much pleasure the Dark Lord got out of watching Harry being tortured.  The ring of flames seemed to diminish and then died completely.  Draco stepped forward to address Voldemort.

            "My Lord, he is unconscious," Draco stated, bowing slightly.  "It would be pointless to continue…though I shall if it is what your Lordship wishes." 'Like _hell _I will!' he thought rebelliously.

            Voldemort shook his head, rising from his chair.  "No no, that is enough.  You did very well, Draco…very well indeed."

            Draco bowed again and straightened up to look Voldemort in the eye.  The Dark Lord was wearing a smile just for him, a smile that held promises of what the future would bring if Draco continued to please him in this way.  Draco felt ill.  

            "I see the fight caused you some pain as well, Draco," Voldemort observed, indicating Draco's bleeding hands.  Draco looked down and was instantly shocked.  The bandages were no longer discernable.  Both of his hands were bright red, dripping with blood from the reopened cuts.  He found that his fingers would not unclench.  He attempted to force them open and received no results other than even more terrible waves of pain.  'Broken?' he wondered.  It wouldn't be surprising.  'Pounding ones hands into a marble floor will do that, I guess,' he thought.  But he wasn't sorry.  Looking at the broken form of Harry Potter on the floor, he felt no wave of remorse for what he had done.  Even if every finger was broken, it would be worth it.  He had somewhat settled his score.  'Now I only have to get Potter out of here…how in the _hell _am I going to do _that?!_'  Draco tasted blood.  Flicking his tongue to the corner of his mouth, he tasted even more.  He realized that when he had bit his lip to keep from crying out while he was pretending to punch Harry, he had bit down so hard that he had split his lip.

            Draco's attention was called back as Voldemort snapped his fingers.  "Nott, Goyle," he said.  "Take Mr. Potter back to his cozy dungeon cell."  Laughing, the two men complied.  Draco watched them harshly drag Harry off, the boy's legs dangling as the men dragged him out of the room by his arms.

            "You may take your leave, Draco," Voldemort said.  Draco looked up at him.  Voldemort smiled.  "You have pleased me immensely, Draco.  I am known to give great rewards to those who please me."

            Draco tried very hard to smile but found himself completely unable to do so.  He settled for a nod.  Voldemort didn't seem to care.  "Thank you, my Lord."  Turning on his heel, Draco left the room as quickly as he could.  Not quick enough, however.  Just shy of the door, Lucius caught Draco by the shoulder.  Slowly, Draco turned to face his father.  Lucius smiled down at his son. 

            "You did well, boy."  Lucius nodded his head, the smile widening every minute.  "I'm proud of you."

            Draco barely managed to nod before pulling away from his father and exiting the room as quickly as he could.  He found his way to the nearest bathroom and collapsing to his knees, threw up.

~*~

            Draco propped himself up against the toilet, shuddering.  He brushed hair out of his eyes, bloodied hand rubbing against sweaty skin.  He was a bloody, sweaty, sickened mess.  He had felt sick throughout the entire ordeal, but his father stating that he was proud of him…Draco felt as if he were going to be sick again, just thinking about it.  'What have I become that he is proud of me?  What horrific thing have I become?'  Draco buried his face in his hands and felt blood smearing across his face.  He pulled his hands away and stared at them.  He attempted to undo the bandages and couldn't; his hands were still clenched into fists.  Draco pondered the dilemma for a moment.  Then, he wedged his right thumb into the middle of his left fist, forcing the fingers to come unstuck.  He bit his lip again at the intense pain, then cried out as he bit down on the damaged lip.  He finally managed to unclench his left hand and then painfully unclenched his right hand with the now free left hand.  Yup, they were definitely broken…all ten fingers utterly useless.  'And _painful_.'  Slowly, Draco undid the bandages and flushed them down the toilet.  He was bleeding everywhere.  Uncaring, he wiped his hands down his robes; the blood was already spattered on his torn white shirt.  'Damn…this was my favorite shirt, too.'  Draco suddenly felt tears in his eyes, burning hot pinpricks.  The emotions he had been holding in all night finally found their way out as the tears rolled down his cheeks, unchecked.  It wasn't the shirt that he was really upset about; Draco knew this.  It was just the final straw.  Everything he had been feeling that night had been held in.  He had handled everything maturely, taken it all with a grain of salt.  The sight of his ruined shirt had finally brought all of that anger and sadness spilling out of him.   Then, the impossible happened:  Draco found a laugh escaping his lips.  He laughed loudly and freely at the insane ludicrousness of it all.  'With everything that happened tonight I get upset that I ruined my shirt?'  He was crying and laughing at the same time. Anyone who saw him would believe him to be completely insane.  'Maybe I am,' he thought, 'maybe I am.'

~tbc~

Nuwanda:  There.  Happy now?  Two chapters in one day.  Don't even whine now that you need more.  Actually, do, we love people who say they love our fic.  Okay, I reeeeaaally need Quillow to help me w/ these notes, b/c I'm demented and can't do it by myself.  *siiiiiiiiigh*  Oh well.  *bows*  Till next time!

Dedication:  Meg-ling.  My big sister Meg.  Because she _loves _our fic (or so she claims) and because she's writing wa na na fanfic of her own now.  WOOT for Meg-ling! ;D


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